


3 Days Of Winter

by KatBarnes



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Captivity, Collars, Dom/sub, F/M, Intimidation, Kidnapping
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-21
Updated: 2014-10-24
Packaged: 2018-02-22 00:19:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2487503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KatBarnes/pseuds/KatBarnes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five women who've never met each other before find themselves in an unfamiliar room at the mercy of Alexander Pierce and his plan to offer them up as a reward to his prized 'weapon.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I've been musing about writing this thing for a week or so now but I finally thought fuck it and took the plunge.  
> It's largely based on an idea I had months and months ago but a dream I had a while back kinda sparked life into it again. It was originally going to be much more horrible than what this will be but I decided against writing it that way thankfully.
> 
> Anyways, I hope people enjoy this little sidetrack from my other fics. I can already tell that I'm going to enjoy working on it. :)
> 
> (Russian translations are in the notes at the end of the chapter.)

The room was cold and damp, a single bare bulb hanging from the ceiling provided the only source of light. There wasn’t much furniture, only a scraggy old desk and chair stood off to one side.  
In stark contrast, a group of five women aged between 18 and 30 huddled together in the far corner. They had been brought in one by one throughout the course of the day. They were strangers to each other but it had been ascertained from brief, whispered exchanges that none of them had come here willingly, neither did they remember how they came to be here, due to all of them being unconscious when dragged into the room.  
There was a loud, sharp bang as the heavy door was unbolted and a low creaking as it swung open to reveal a group of men in the corridor outside. Three entered and two remained outside, standing one either side of the still open door. One of the three that entered stood out in his attire, not dressed in black military garb like all the others. He wore an expensive looking waistcoat layered over a white shirt, gray trousers, smart leather shoes and a teal and navy striped tie completed the ensemble. It was obvious just from the nonchalant way that he walked that this man had power, his very presence seemed to demand respect.  
He made his way over to the women, stopping far away enough as not to appear too threatening but close enough to establish a sense of command and control of the situation.  
He spoke gently but authority seeped through into his every word. “Ladies. I’m sure you’re wondering why you’ve been brought to this place. Well, I’m not sure if you’ve realized it yet but you all have something in common; your private lives. You are all of the service-orientated submission persuasion, of being Submissives to people that refer to themselves as Doms.”

The women shuffled uneasily at this, no they hadn’t realized they had that particular trait in common and now they were more terrified than ever. If that was the reason they’d been brought here, the reason they had been ‘selected’ then what in God’s name was going to happen to them?  
One of them, she was roughly 20 years old, with black cascading hair, stood up slowly, the others looking up at her with combined expressions of fear and admiration. “What do you want with us?” She asked, her voice displayed no shyness but it was plain to see that she wasn’t foolish enough to not be scared of this man and his intentions.

The smartly dressed man smiled at her question. “All in due time, darling.” He shot her a wink, although not the kind that anyone would find even remotely complimentary, the kind that would make your skin crawl. “First allow me to introduce myself, my name is Alexander Pierce. You may have heard of me or perhaps maybe you haven’t, after all it would depend on your education or status in society I guess.” A snarky smile spread across his face. “I’ll just assume that you haven’t heard of me. As I was saying, I am the head of a powerful organization involved in keeping this country, and indeed the entire planet at times, safe from those who would seek to cause chaos, disorder and war.” He began to pace a line in front of the women, giving the impression of forming a barrier. A psychological tactic to make people feel mentally cornered as well as physically. “Now getting back to the young ladies question. What do we want with you? Well, my organization has it’s fair share of weapons. We find that we need a substantial armory to aid us in our efforts for peace. Our most prized weapon though is not a gun or high-spec jet or even a warship, it’s something very different indeed. A soldier, one lone soldier who has proved at times to be more effective than an entire army.”

The women seemed dumbstruck. What the hell did this have to do with them? It all seemed like a bizarre dream, one where everything is muddled and thrown together to culminate in a weird and unfathomable mess that can’t be made sense of. Not rationally any way. This man was talking about organizations and weapons and soldiers to a group of scared and kidnapped women, some of whom weren’t even out of their teens.

“I’ll get to the point shall I? Lately our soldier has done some work for us that has been quite literally groundbreaking, work that will aid us greatly with our future plans and to put it bluntly, I and his other superiors believe he deserves a reward for his efforts. That’s where you fine young ladies come in.” Pierce stopped his pacing, turning to face them before continuing. “He will be along soon to select one of you to be his companion for the next three days, to do with as he wishes. Now, if there are no further questions then I’d like to ask you all to stand and line up against the wall.”

None of the girls moved at first, they were all still trying to process their situation. Pierce gave a subtle signal and the two men that had accompanied him into the room began to advance, slowly drawing handguns from the holsters on their hips as they walked in a plainly intimidating gesture. This was all the motivation the women needed as they collectively scrabbled up from the floor and arranged themselves against the stone wall as they had been instructed.

“Very good, I’m impressed ladies.” Pierce said, looking each of them up and down in turn as he made his way over to the door. He briefly exchanged words with one of the men stood out in the corridor before sauntering to the desk and easing himself down into the chair with a low sigh. “While we wait for him I’ll offer these pieces of advice, although I’m sure it’s all stuff you’ve heard plenty of times before. Don’t look him in the eyes unless he addresses you, only speak to him if he speaks to you first and under no circumstance, no matter how close he gets to you, do not touch him, not if you want to keep your hands any way.” Of course Pierce was right, these kinds of rules were surprisingly commonplace among Doms after all.

The silence was broken by the sound of footsteps approaching down the corridor, growing louder and louder. War drums sprang to mind. After what seemed like a painfully long time they reached the door and through it entered a small army of men, eight of whom were dressed in the same black tactical gear as the ones from before, the one walking in the middle however, flanked and surrounded on either side, stood out like a sore thumb.

He was tall, standing above all the others quite easily and his shoulder length, shaggy brown hair was in stark contrast to the high and tight cuts of the men surrounding him. He was also far more built then any of them, that was plain to see considering the tight black turtle neck clinging to his torso. On his bottom half he wore similar trousers to the rest though they had a few different features and on his feet were thick soled military boots that were obviously far above being standard issue.

The congregation of men came to a halt roughly halfway down the line of women and also halfway across the room from them. The long haired man barely glanced at them, seeming to not show much interest at all.

“Выберите один, солдат.” Pierce spoke from his seat behind the desk. “Вы зарабатывал его.”

None of the women understood Russian, which was probably no coincidence, so they had no idea what was about to happen, although it all became clear when heavy footfalls started in their direction. They all kept their eyes glued to the patch of floor directly in front of them, their minds numb, scared out of their wits knowing this was more than likely the man that they were potentially going to be given to if he chose them. 

He walked slowly, painstakingly so in fact, down the line and back up only to turn on his heels and head back down to the opposite end again. He eyed each of the girls carefully, no emotion showing on his face in the slightest, only his piercing blue pupils drifting across them intently.

He got to the girl at the far end of the line, nearest the back wall of the room, stopping directly in front of her. It was the same girl that had defiantly stood earlier to ask Pierce her question. She was short, roughly 5ft2”, her wavy black hair framing her face perfectly, its furthest lengths falling just past her breasts. 

She stared intently at his boots, focusing all her attention on them as her mind raced and mentally willed him to move along. She didn’t wish any of the others to be chosen either but she knew one of them would be and she’d rather it not be her.  
The boots moved closer to her as the man stepped forward more and that was when she made her mistake. She hadn’t meant to at all, maybe it had been nerves or her overwhelming fear of whoever was stood before her, but she looked up at him. In the brief second that she locked eyes with him she practically felt her blood run cold. She’d never broken such a simple rule before.

“Как тебя зовут?” 

She practically jumped out of her skin at the sound of his gruff voice so close to her, close enough that she felt the stale air of the room shift against her skin. She didn’t know what to do, she couldn’t understand him. Reluctantly she glanced over at Pierce who thankfully translated for her.

“He asked for your name sweetheart.” He offered with a smile. He was enjoying this, sat behind his desk watching the little show, watching the fear on the girls faces as they silently prayed to be spared whatever this hulking brute of a man had in store for them.

“It’s Cleo.” She choked out, instinctively adding a sweet and innocent tone to her voice. Nearly all of the men she had been a sub for had been highly attracted to innocence so it had more or less become a part of her at this point, though that didn’t stop her from mentally cursing herself for speaking in such a manner in her present situation.

Another tortuously long minute or two passed, during which Cleo all but resigned herself to her fate. She’d be chosen, there was little doubt about that now. He would have moved on already if he had no interest in her. She had just started to run through all the things that could be awaiting her when the man in front of her spoke again.

“Я хочу ее.” 

Pierce stood up and spoke once more. “Very well.” He turned, addressing the two men he had originally come in with. “Take her and prep her. I’ll deal with the others myself.”

The next 60 seconds were full of so much rushed movement and loud noise that it was dizzying. Cleo was grabbed by the two lackeys Pierce had just spoken to and held against the wall whilst the long haired man was once again surrounded by the remainder of the black clad men and led back out of the room. She was then taken roughly by the arms and dragged out of the door. 

Once out in the corridor she took a quick glance behind her and saw that she was being taken in the opposite direction to the man she now presumably belonged to. She barely had time to register this fact before four individual gunshots rang out. Cleo jumped and went rigid with horror as she realized what they must mean. The men only tightened their grip on her and continued to drag her along.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Russian translations:  
> Выберите один, солдат. - Select one, soldier.  
> Вы зарабатывал его. - You earned it.  
> Как тебя зовут? - What’s your name?  
> Я хочу ее. - I want her.


	2. First Meeting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dang I'm enjoying writing this thing, not gonna lie. :P  
> I just wanna say a quick little thank you for the kudos and comments on this so far, it really helps my motivation! ^_^
> 
> As always, Russian translations in the bottom notes. There's only a couple this time.

The room Cleo was bustled into was tiny compared to the one she had just come from, it seemed like it was little more than a slightly glorified storage cupboard. Across one wall stood a surgical table with a man perched on the edge of it. She glanced at his face and gasped. She knew him; she knew him very well in fact. His name was Brock Rumlow and she had belonged to him for a while a little over a year ago. What was he doing associating with these psychopaths? He met her eyes and shook his head very subtly, signaling to her not to react to him.  
She found herself being pushed down into a metal chair opposite the table, the men seemingly taking it upon themselves to keep a painfully tight hold of her shoulders as if she was going to be stupid enough to try and make a run for it. The man over on the table took note of this. 

“Alright boys, I can take it from here. Move it out.” He ordered, climbing down from the table and crossing his arms authoritatively across his chest.

With only the briefest of hesitation the men at Cleo’s side released her, left the room and slammed the door shut behind them. As their footsteps faded away slowly into the distance an air of relative safety fell upon the room.

“Hello Kitten, long time no see.”

Cleo’s attention snapped to the man across from her and she instantly began to question him. “Brock, what the hell are you doing here? You work for these guys?” She asked, beginning to get to her feet.

“DON’T get up.” Brock barked quickly, moving towards her. “They’re watching, there’s a camera in the corner behind you. They can’t hear us but if they suspect anything other than complete compliance then they’ll come for you and you’ll just end up like the others.” He explained, keeping his tone of voice as calm as possible. “And yes, I do work for them. I never told you back then because you never needed to know and honestly, you were better off that way.”

Cleo was stunned, all the time she’d been with Brock she’d had no idea he’d been a part of anything like this, she’d been under the impression that he worked an office job for a high ranking company in DC. Now that she thought about it that technically wasn’t too far from the truth was it? Although this wasn’t exactly much of an office. “Who are they?” She asked timidly, settling back into the chair. She knew it wasn’t any of her business and that he was right about her being better off not knowing but the question was out before she could reel it back in.

“There’s no time for that, Kitten.” Brock explained, his knees popping as he crouched down in front of her. “I’d rather use what little time you’ve got here to give you some info on the guy you’re gonna be locked up with. It might just end up saving you life.”

She gulped. “’Locked up with?’ ‘Save my life?’ Who the hell is this guy?” Her pale green eyes were as wide as saucers as she looked to him for answers.

He sighed, his large shoulders rising and falling. “I’m sure Pierce did at least a mediocre job of explaining who, or rather what, he is. What I need you to know right now is this: for the love of god don’t disobey him. It’ll get you killed, and fast. This guy is capable of things you wouldn’t believe, okay?” He seemed to hesitate for a moment before carrying on, as if searching for the right words. “You remember how you used to tell me how strong I was, about how you loved that I could manhandle you so easily and stuff? Well, as much as I hate to admit it, I got nothing on this guy. Don’t toy with him and don’t push your luck, don’t play the tease with him. I guarantee he won’t respond appreciatively if you do. He’s volatile and at times down right unstable.”

Cleo’s face had grown steadily paler as he had gone on. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing, it sounded like these people were throwing her in a cage with a wild beast. How on earth was she expected to get through this? Or perhaps that was the point. Perhaps she wasn’t meant to and this would all be some sick show for them to watch on their little cameras. She could see it now: that Alexander Pierce creep sat in front of a monitor, nursing a hard-on in his palm whilst watching her being torn limb from limb courtesy of his precious ‘soldier.’ 

Brock noticed the absolute fear in her expression and continued, this time softening his voice slightly to a tone he knew she’d recognize and perhaps find some comfort in, the tone he had used during their time together when he had wished to show her affection. “Look, just do what he asks and I’m sure you’ll be fine. You’re not weak and you’re definitely not fragile and you know what? I’d be willing to bet a shit load of cash that’s why he chose you, I’d be so damn surprised if it wasn’t because he somehow saw that in you.” He offered her a very small smile, the best he could do considering the circumstances. “Now come on, get up and change into these. It’s almost time.” 

He gestured toward the table, where a previously unnoticed gray tank top and pair of black shorts lay in a neat little pile. Cleo made her way over to them hesitantly and began to undress with shaky hands. “No need to turn around Sir, it’s nothing you haven’t seen before after all.” She remarked after seeing Brock begin to do just that out of the corner of her eye.

“Man, you never change.” He chuckled.

——————

“You are to enter as soon as this door opens enough for you to fit through, is that understood?”

Cleo, Brock and two other men stood out in the now familiar corridor, only now they were all the way at the very end. They had passed the ‘selection’ room on their way here, the smell of disinfectant and other cleaning fluids had been overpowering.  
One of the men, the one that had just spoken, was busy working away to unlock what looked more like the entrance to a maximum security prison than any door Cleo had ever laid eyes upon. He was using all manner of passcodes and navigating various security measures on a small electronic panel just off to the left hand side. He looked back over his shoulder expectantly when she did not answer. 

“Yes, understood.” She answered, not quite being able to stop her voice wavering. She felt like she was waiting outside of an execution chamber, that the room before her would be the last she’d ever step into.

A minute or so ticked by agonizingly when suddenly a series of mechanical clicks and rattles began followed by a loud buzzing noise before the thick metal door started to slide sideways into the wall and open. Cleo knew she should be moving, she knew that within a second or two she’d be able to squeeze through but she found herself rooted to the spot. When the door was approaching halfway open she was grasped firmly by two large hands from behind and Brock’s face appeared over her shoulder.

“Remember what I told you.” He whispered quickly into her ear, pushing her forward and through the gap.  
Once inside she took no notice of the room and spun around to face him again. He locked eyes with her as he gave the order. “Close it.”

There were more mechanical noises as the door groaned, reversing it’s momentum and beginning to slide shut again. Brock held the eye contact until it shut completely with a muffled bang, the sounds of the locks engaging starting up again instantly. 

And then it was quiet, deathly so.

Cleo didn’t know if she dared to turn around, for all she knew the guy that she was being locked up with, the guy that she’d heard absolutely nothing good about could be standing only inches away from her. But then, she couldn’t stay stood facing the door for three days could she? It was best to get it over with. She drew in a deep breath, counted to five and turned slowly, her eyes quickly darting around the room.

It was vastly different from the previous ones she’d found herself in. It still wasn’t what anyone would describe as nice but it was definitely an improvement. It was pleasantly large with a high ceiling and sported a comparatively decent amount of furniture. Set into the back wall was a second door, a normal one thankfully, which presumably contained a bathroom.  
Where was he? Was he not back yet? If not then why was there such a big deal about locking the door behind her so fast? 

Cleo scanned the room again, paying close attention to every detail and that was when she spotted him. He was perched up on top of a bookshelf, of all places, one leg drawn up against his body while the other dangled over the edge. His eyes were locked on her, boring into her from across the room as he remained there perfectly still. Instinct and discipline kicked in and she dropped to her knees, lowering her eyes to the floor. She had no idea if he expected this of her or not but she had learned from experience that it was best to assume a submissive position when properly encountering a Dom for the first time rather than risk potentially being disobedient. There was a loud thud that echoed off of the walls and rattled the furniture, followed by approaching footsteps and before she knew it she was staring at those familiar boots again.

“Посмотри на меня.”

Again with the Russian. Surely he knew by now that she couldn’t understand him. A silence spun out and she began to wonder if she should just take an educated guess at what he was saying but again, that risked disobedience and that was something she definitely needed to avoid at all costs.

The boots shifted slightly before he spoke again, thankfully in English this time. “Look at me.” 

A sense of relief washed through Cleo as she instantly brought her head up, grateful that he hadn’t misunderstood her noncompliance. Looking up at him from the ground made her feel indescribably tiny, he towered over, devouring her in his shadow. Now that she was able to get a good look at his face she was surprised to see that he seemed to be a lot younger than what she had been expecting. With the exception of Brock she was used to serving older men but this guy looked to be somewhere in his late twenties. She took in his features: his dark brown hair that was parted in the center and fell to his collarbones, his very strong jawline which, along with his upper lip, was covered in a considerable amount of stubble, his lips that were close to verging on the color of cherries and surprisingly plump looking. Although what she found most striking about him in that moment were his eyes, not only their amazing shade of blue but their intensity, she doubted she could be deliberately defiant under that gaze even if she wanted to be.

“Get up.” His voice was deep and firm but not overly harsh, though it no doubt had the capacity to be.

Cleo stood in one fluid movement, making sure to assume a proper posture. Feet together, shoulders back, hands clasped together in the small of her back, chin tilted upwards. 

He looked her up and down, a small smile seemed to allude to his approval. “We need to get a few things straight and I need to make sure you understand some very simple rules.” He stated flatly. This was nothing out of the ordinary, most people preferred to get things established straight away rather than have any awkward uncertainty lingering in the air. “Firstly, you are not a slave and you are not below me. I will not treat you like garbage so long as you don’t behave like it. On the other hand you will endeavor to serve, obey and please me in whatever ways I ask of you and if you fail to do so then you will endure whatever discipline or punishment I deem necessary to inflict upon you. Do you understand so far?”

“Yes.” Cleo answered clearly. She had to admit she was surprised at his clarity and fairness, from the picture that had been painted of him she’d expected this guy to have demanded she be permanently attached to his crotch and not breathe unless he gave his permission.

“Good. I’m sure you’re familiar with the concept of a safe word, with me your word is ‘star’. Use it only if you feel you really need to but don’t fear my reaction if you do, I wouldn’t be giving you such a thing if I didn’t intend to abide by it. Now, repeat the word to me so I know that you’re fully aware what it is.” His eloquence was almost hypnotizing.

Cleo licked her lips before answering. “My safe word is star.”

“Very good.” He praised, walking the short distance over to a small table situated roughly in the center of the room. On it’s wooden surface sat a box which he took in his right hand before heading back over. “Now, I said that you’re not my slave and that fact still stands but I’d like you to wear this.” He opened the box to reveal a collar. It was made from black leather and featured a medium sized silver hoop that hung from a d-ring. “I’m sorry it’s not something a little more pretty but I asked them to provide me with one for you and this is what they gave me.” 

Cleo had to suppress the urge to furrow her brows. Was he really apologizing? She’d been required to wear a collar on a few occasions, she knew the drill well enough. “It’s from you, that’s all that matters. I’ll wear it with pride.” She said sweetly, her lips puckered and eyes full of innocence. 

He smirked. “Good girl, that’s what I like to hear.” Taking the collar from its box and walking around behind her. He swept her hair gently around to one side, unbuckled the clasp on the collar and slipped it around her neck. 

As he was doing this Cleo noticed something odd, the fingers of one of his hands felt ice cold against the skin of her neck compared to the other, she began to wonder why that would be but didn’t have too long to muse on the observation as he had soon securely fastened the collar and moved around back in front of her.

He admired the way it looked placed around her throat for a moment before uttering a single word, once again in Russian. “Красивая.” Though he didn’t attempt to translate the smile that accompanied it suggested that it was something positive. “Now’s your chance to ask any questions you might have.”

Of course there was something Cleo had been expecting him to cover at some point whilst laying down his rules but he hadn’t mentioned it. “Just one. What do you wish me to call you?” This was vital, the last thing any Sub wanted to do was make presumptions and end up calling their Dom something that he or she objected to. As was very much the case in this situation, especially since he was actually turning out to be a hell of a lot nicer than she’d anticipated. Still, it wouldn’t be wise to cross him and end up finding out otherwise.

He seemed almost dumb struck for a second, disbelief quickly sweeping across his features. “Forgive me for neglecting such important information, I knew I’d forget something.” He stepped closer, to the point that their bodies were almost pressed together. “You will call me Winter.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Russian translations:  
> Посмотри на меня - look at me.  
> Красивая - beautiful.


End file.
